


Mountain

by coy_koi



Category: Audrey Munson - Fandom, British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: 1915, Adventure, Alternate Universe - Historical, Attraction, Erotica, Escape, F/M, Hiding, Injury, Mountains, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Romance, Sexual Tension, Teasing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-13
Updated: 2014-07-17
Packaged: 2018-02-08 16:47:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1948713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coy_koi/pseuds/coy_koi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Audrey Munson escapes to a mountain, to hide from a murder she committed in self-defense. After almost dying of poisoning, she is saved by a dark, brooding loner who helps her, but chases her away, wanting to remain alone. However, she is unable to survive in the wilderness by herself, so she ends up being saved by him again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Escape

The field seemed endless, heavy summer sun scorching the blades of grass and making it seem like a sea of gold, enchanting and torturing my senses.  
I already took off my jacket and tore my underskirt, for they only prevented me from moving faster. Brome tickled my ankles as I ran through the field, praying to God to give me the strength to reach the cover of trees in due time. Soon, the fluorescent light of noon shone on the taller grass, which seemed to be thicker – and the forest was near. I sped up, finding kilter in the desire to get away.   
Oh the very last step upon pulling through the first trees felt divine, and I slouched down to sit in the shade, among the bushes farther away, hiding my body from plain sight. My heart thumped like crazy, and it took an awful lot of time to calm down. I was covered in sweat, my shirt plastered to my chest, heavy droplets running down my red face. My lungs ached.   
I decided to find some water, so I got up and made my way through the comforting shade of trees, the ground plain enough to allow me to walk freely and rest my limbs from running. It took hours, in which I tripped over large stones and cut myself on thorns, to reach the small forest brook – and quench my thirst. I washed my face and hands, kneeling to rest a bit, before deciding I must move forth, for there was not much time left until the sun sets.  
And it peered through the leaves on the treetops, sinking its way West, showing me where the North is, and where my freedom lies.  
I did not know how long will it take for me to reach the mountain  - but I knew I had to get there. It's the only place where they will not search for me. Each time I thought of the chase, I could hear dogs barking, guns charging, and I shuddered and quickened my steps.  
Unplanned as it was, my escape rendered me itemless in the everdarkening forest. What now? What of the animals?  
Deciding I must find a place to sleep, I find a bush which can hide me, and, lying down on the dirt with a look of disgust on my face, I put on my jacket and try to ignore the howling, the chirping and the various tiny forest noises which threatened to push me into a paranoia.  
Luckily, I was exhausted enough to manage to fall asleep.  
  


*  
  
A creeping sensation on my cheek awoke me, and I wiped it, to discover a large bug was walking over me. I shrieked and jumped up, cleaning leaves and dirt off of me, along with tiny worms which slithered their way along my clothes. It was morning, and the humidity of the night still covered me, assuring some protection from the oncoming heat.   
Finding the moss on the trees, I started moving North again, picking relatively benign looking berries for food. My stomach growled, I was thirsty, my muscles ached from all the running I did the day before.   
My hair was full of branches which tore it out of my long braid, it was so dirty that for awhile, all I focused on was imagining a steaming bath to clean myself. The forest seemed neverending, and the brown of the trunks and green of the treetops and shrubs melted into a blur which made my stomach twist.   
The sun moved, it was above me, then beside me, throwing dusty rays on my face here and there, informing me of the time passed, the time in which my dehydration and hunger started playing tricks on my mind, and I was slowed down, the branches and thorns cutting into my skin even more, but the pain dissipated, and I just kept lifting my feet like a zombie, pushing through the horrid forest to a hazy goal I had less and less hope of reaching.   
However, I did notice the air became more fresh, colder, and that told me I was higher above the planes. It was beginning to be harder to walk, the ground steeped up, the roots bursting forth to create a fairytale-like braids to scare away unwanted travellers. But not even that stopped me.   
Soon, I had to climb up, using my weary hands to support myself. I wanted to cry, but my body had no more water to spare, so I just sobbed dryly and quietly, wiping the dirt from my palms on my thorn, dirty shirt (which was once white), my skirt heavy around me.

But then I saw it. Through the small gaps between the trunks, I saw the forest ending, and rushing to it, afraid it's another hallucination, I pushed my way onwards, stepping out of the sunset shade of trees to a huge plain, immediately noticing the river dancing across it. I ran like a mad woman, throwing myself on my knees and drinking the ambrosia, clean, cold water. Washing my wounds and the filth from my face, I took a look around. It stretched forth, ringed by mountains and even darker forests on edges. On my right, there was a bush with red berries, and I crawled to it, stuffing them in my hungry mouth, chewing obediently.  
I had to walk on, to find at least somebody. I knew of people living up in mountains, the old people who could not make peace with the civilisation. A meadow like this seemed like an ideal place. And soon enough, I thought I saw a silhouette of a cottage over yonder, next to a group of trees. I gasped, hope rising up in my chest, and began running again, trying not to trip over stones. But after some time, I felt sick. Really sick. I stopped and massaged my stomach, which was beginning to hurt more and more.   
_Berries._  
They must have been poisonous. Oh the pain was horrible, I fell on the ground and writhed, begging for mercy. However, the exhaustion was stronger. My mind reeled, skin breaking cold sweat, my entire body quivering strongly, and with a spiralling sickness which rolled my eyes in their sockets, I blacked out, letting go of my consciousness.   



	2. Chapter 2

A sussurus. Rustling. I opened my eyes, focusing on the dark wooden ceiling for a second, before turning my head to the side, noticing a man sitting on a chair, sharpening a piece of wood with a knife. My eyes widened and I gasped in surprise and fear.   
He lifted his eyes and looked at me.   
"You're awake."  
I tried to speak, but my throat was clogged, so I cleared it, lifting my incredibly aching body to sit on the bed I was lying on.  
"Who are you?"

He frowned.  
"Don't ask me that. This is my home."

I looked around, taking in my surroundings: it was a modest cottage, with a table, couple of chairs, a bed and a tiny fireplace in the corner. It looked centuries old, much too old for my progressive 1915.   
"Uhh... where am I? What happened?"

"I found you in the field. You ate something you shouldn't have."  
I remembered the cottage I was running to. This must have been it.   
"But who are you?"

"It doesn't matter. How are you feeling?"

"Okay, I guess."

"You slept for more than a day."

My eyes widened.

"Did you climb here by yourself? Where is your man?"

"I have no man. I came by myself." I said, a bit mad he is implying this for a woman like myself, with my own money and belonging to the Suffragetes. He snorted derisively.  
"Are you hungry?"

I swallowed. Oh gods, yes, I was very hungry. Without a word, he offered me a cup of water and freshly prepared meat and bread in a cloth. I thanked him deeply and started eating, losing every semblance of a cultured person, tearing off tidbits and shoving them in my mouth. He returned to hewing his stake, occasionally looking up to observe my wild chewing.   
I stared at him. The sun from the outside threw shadows on his face. He seemed to have a ginger hair and a light beard, his skin fairly white and clean. Cheekbones were high and very prominent, along with a distinct jawline.   
He seemed to pose no danger for me, I was still alive and well, still fully dressed in my filthy clothes. I wondered what he thought of me. I observed his posture, proud and pensive, even in a physical work such as this.   
He wasn't unpleasant. If anything, he looked quite beautiful, should one pay attention to such a-  
"Are you done?"

He asked, suddenly looking at me. Blood rushed to my cheeks, I was sure he read my mind. I realised I stopped eating.   
"Oh! Uhh, not, not quite."

"Eat, then."

"Yes." I mumbled, and looked down at my meal.   
"What is your name?"

He looked at me.  
"It doesn't matter."

I put the cloth aside, surprised.

"Umm.. I'm Audrey."  
He kept silent.

"Are you finished?"

"Yes. Thank you so much for the food, and... for not killing me... or worse."

"Why would I kill you?"

I shrugged, sighing, remembering people who apparently had a reason for doing that. He interrupted my thought.

"If you are done, you should know it's morning, and you have just enough time and energy to make your way down the mountain."

I flinched.

"No! I'm not going back!"

"Fine. Well, on your way to where you're going, then."  
My jaw fell down, I realised he wanted to throw me out.   
"But..."

"But what?"

"But... I have nowhere to go."

He blinked in confusion.

"Then yours is the strange path. I do wish you luck."

He said, rising up to open the doors for me. I was bewildered, he was actually telling me to go away.  
"But... I don't even know your name."

"You have no use of my name. I can, however, give you a knife. More use in that."  
He offered his knife to me. I looked at it, not knowing how to respond. Suddenly, a wave of embarrassment washed over me, and I rose on my feet, storming past him and out.  
"So long. I wish you the best of luck."

I kept stomping away, not looking back, until I heard the doors close behind me. I turned around and huffed loudly, not believing the rudeness of this man.  
Sure, he fed me and allowed me to sleep, but he was sending me out into the wilderness without even telling me his name. I was mad now, hurrying to the woods on the other side, to find some more people. He could not have been so alone here.   
I was ired, offended, but underneath all that, scared. Fear slowly turned into desperation as the thicket of trees covered me once more, without a hope in sight.   
Hours passed, in which my path was even more blocked my roots and stems, wild, untamed bushes and dark, ominous looking plants.   
There was no way I was returning, my life was at stake. But I had to admit my life was in danger here, too.   
I pushed deeper into the forest, hurrying as much as I could before the sun went down, looking around for another meadow or a plain.  
Suddenly, I stepped over something, and a sharp pain flew up my body. Screaming and looking down, I saw my leg grasped by a trap, with metal teeth, one of which was digging into my foot. The pain was tremendous, and I slouched down, trying to open it. Crying, I somehow managed to pull apart the vicious jaws and free my foot, but as it clamped back, it grazed my wrist, cutting a straight line. I screamed again, trembling, looking at the blood pouring out.   
It must have been one of his traps. The bastard could have warned me. Oh how I hated him, cursing his unanamed face to the quivering treetops. Suddenly, I heard rustling on my left. I rose, frantically turning around. Farther away, I spotted a shape of a four-legged animal, probably drawn by my screaming. I gulped, terror creeping up my spine, my heart thumping wildly in my ears.   
This wasn't working out.   
I turned around and started running back, ignoring the pain in my foot, gasping loudly and looking back to see if the animal was following.   
It wasn't, but the fear was strong, and I didn't want to risk anything, so I kept running.   
Sun was setting fast, and I tried remembering which way I came, wiping my tears with my already bloodied fingers.   
I rushed in an unknown direction, the darkness slowly hiding the clear paths. I was crying again, scolding myself and praying to God to rescue me.   
And then I saw him. The man, carrying an axe, gaiting around the outskirts of the forest. I yelled out, drawing his attention to me and quickening my running.   
I reached him fast and threw myself on him, my foot thumping with wild pain.   
"You!! Oh God! Oh thank God!" I panted , holding him tightly.   
He separated to look at me.

"What happened?"

"A trap! My foot!"

He looked at it, inhaling sharply, staring at my wrist and my dirty, bloody face. He stepped away from me, but I was scared, and desperate, and I jumped on him again.

"Please don't let me go! Please don't! I'm so scared! It was a wolf!"

He was tense, rigid under my hands, and I felt him sigh.

"If it was a wolf, you would not be standing here. It was probably a squirrel."

"No it wasn't!" I buried my face in his chest and wept, still panting.  
"Let me see your foot."

I refused to let him go, holding even tighter as he tried to push me away.  
"Don't chase me away! I don't know what to do!"

"Let me see your foot first."

I reluctantly let go, and he bent down, frowning when he saw the wound through my shoe.  
"Let's go, it's dark already." He said and turned around, walking back to his cottage. I stood there awhile, before realising I must follow. The pain increased again, and it was becoming unbearable to lean on it. I breathed heavily, cringing on each step, not realising how was I able to run so far and now it was hard to walk.  
A sharp pain ran through my wound, and I shrieked, stopping in place. He looked at me.  
"It's your trap!" I yelled.

"You should mind where you're walking. Come on."

I tried to follow, but I couldn't. He sighed.   
"Hold this."

He handed me his axe and pushed his hand around my thighs and back, hoisting me up. I wrapped an arm around his neck, afraid I'll fall down, and held the axe with the other.  
He kept his eyes forward, refusing to meet my gaze as I stared at him. The ache seemed to spread throughout my body, and I was rapidly getting tired.   
The light of the cottage looked like warm, soothing sunshine when he brought me in and let me down.  
"Sit down."   
He took off my shoe carefully, and I would not even notice it, as the weariness and pain lulled me almost completely, but a sharp discomfort made me open my eyes.  
He exhaled loudly. My foot looked horrible, though the wound was not as deep as it felt.  
"This doesn't look good."

"You think?! You put the trap there!"

"Calm down. It's for the animals. It's not my fault you're not watching where you're going. I'm surprised you managed to come up the mountain."  
I sighed, too tired to fight. He got up and brought water and a cloth, cleaning the wound.  
"This is going to burn, but it needs to be done." He said, not looking at me at all, and got a bottle of moonshine. My eyes widened.   
"Try not to scream."   
I bit the sleeve of my jacket as he opened it and poured it over the wound. The burning was strong, I cringed and tried to squirm away, cursing muffled by the sleeve. He dabbed the cloth some more and then wrapped another piece of linen around it tightly, as I leant my head against the wall and focused on my breathing.   
"I'm no gentleman. You'll sleep on the floor."  
"You're not kicking me out again?"

Only now he looked at me, the blue in his eyes piercing through my skull.  
"I don't refuse a human in distress."

I didn't have the will for a snappy comment, so I just mouthed thank you and toppled on the floor.

"Wait.." He said, a bit surprised by my silence and retrieved fur for me to lie on.  
I was beyond grateful for a safe place to sleep, so I just closed my eyelids shut and fell into my dream.


	3. Chapter 3

Smell of food awoke me, and I opened my eyes, to see the doors opened to a blistering sunshine, and my ungentlemanly stranger sitting on a chair, eating and looking at the river.   
I got up, wincing from the slight pain in my foot and walking to him, floor creaking beneath my bare feet.   
"How long did I sleep this time?"

"A lot. You were in pain."  
"I was." I mouthed, pulling a chair from the inside and dragging it out to sit by him.   
"May I?"

I asked, my stomach growling with hunger. He still didn't look at me properly, while I stared. He nodded, and I took some carrots and meat, chewing gratefully.  
"How do you get vegetables here?"

"Forests have their natural way of supporting plants."

He mumbled, silent again. Oh he was the brooding type, his face thoughtful. And beautiful. I chewed, ogling him like a child. His beard and hair were not long, meticulously cut with a knife, providing a complementary contrast to the blue of his eyes. Oh he was beautiful, I thought, feeling a warm wave up my spine.   
I had the eye for beauty, I always did. That's why I modelled for all those painters. One of them even called me his muse. My eye for beauty was hungry, so I consumed what I could, earning my status of a _whore._ That's what got me into my current situation. Some people have a strange conviction of abusing what they think morally wrong. That's why... I couldn't think about it anymore, the memory of all the blood pouring out of his neck made me sick, and I sighed heavily, looking away, placing my meat down.   
"What is your name?"

I asked him, to drive away heavy thoughts.  
"I'm not telling you."

I chuckled.  
"Very well. I'll give you a name then. You look like...like a Brett."

He looked at me, contorting his eyebrows, making me laugh.

"A joke. Umm, a William, maybe?"

I pursed my lips, unsatisfied. And then it came to me.

"Thomas! You're Thomas!"  
He continued eating.   
"Yes, I like that. Thomas. Well, Thomas, I'm Audrey Munson."

"That is not my name."

"It is now."

He sighed.   
"How is your foot?"

"Fine, I think. Still aching. Thank you for taking care of that, Thomas."

He nodded, seemingly making peace with the fact I've given him a name. Suddenly, he handed me the plate and rose from his chair.  
"Where are you going?"

"Hunting."

"Oh. And me?"

"Rest. The faster you heal, the faster you continue your escape."

He said, throwing me a knowing glance and walking inside to ready himself. I continued eating, my eyes following him as he started entering the forest. I smiled to myself, unable to get away from the thought of finding him beautiful, his silence tempting me to discover his secrets.   
What else would one do here? There was no books. So I roamed around, trying to find something of interest, finally throwing myself on his bed. Suddenly, I was surrounded by his scent, and I inhaled deeply. Pure musk, that masculine tang which crawled up my nostrils and made me want more.   
It was probably not a good idea to begin fantasizing, but I couldn't help myself, my mind busied itself with the images of kisses, sounds of sloshy skin and sighs. _Oh no._ My body likes the idea.  
I chuckle to myself and sit up, to avoid the scent.  
In the middle of it, I realise I reek with sweat, dirt, and blood. How does he bathe? Oh, the river, I suppose. I'd take anything right now, so I exit the cottage and head to the river, which is relatively close to it. The water looks calm, not too deep. I can handle this, I think, and take off my plastered clothes, slowly entering inside, shrieking from how cold it is, even in the summer. I cup some in my palms and drink it, it's fresh, and I begin scrubbing off the dirt from my body and hair, delighting in the way it soothes my senses. When I'm finished, I take my clothes and cleanse them thoroughly, leaving them to dry on a large stone next to the water, where I lie down and allow the sun to pour over my skin and heat my closed eyelids. River flows by, shimmering sounds relaxing me completely. After awhile, I feel a light breeze fluttering over me, making me a bit cold, my nipples hardening instantly. I look at the clothes: they were still wet, so I get up to walk to the cottage and perhaps steal one of shirts. I spread out my arms on the porch and imbibe the beautiful sun, massaging my scalp with my fingers, when suddenly, a creak of the wood makes me open my eyes. And when I do, I see Thomas's open mouthed face staring at me. Immediately a flush washes over my cheeks, and for a couple of seconds, I am unable to move as his wide eyes rake over my body. But then I jump and cover myself, running inside and slamming the doors.   
"Sorry!" I scream. "I'll take a shirt!" And I drape the longest one over myself, before taking a deep breath and exiting out. He was tense, frowning at me, his blue eyes a dark shade.  
"Sorry. I didn't know you were here, I washed my clothes, they were dirty and went inside to borrow a shirt while they dry...I.."

"It's fine." He mumbles, holding his bag of quarry tightly as he is trying hard not to look down again. I saw him gritting his jaw, and I excused myself, running back to the river.   
I sat down, panting from the running and the embarrassment, wiping my face with my palms.   
With my clothes dry already, I was trying to gather strength to walk back to the house. My foot needed a new bandage, as well as my wrist. But his face kept reappearing, surprised, curious, his eyes roaming up and down my body... I smiled involuntarily, realising I saw him fight a hunger when he seemed controlled. I pursed my lips, tapping a finger against them.  
After awhile, I decided to go back, so I clothed myself carefully and approached him. He was skinning a rabbit in front of the house, his long fingers like claws, knuckle-deep in blood, veins of naked forearms straining. He looked at me, almost disdainfully as before.  
"Can... I help you somehow?"

"Do you know how to skin an animal?"

I sighed.  
"Not... really, but I can try."

I sat down on the floor next to him, taking a knife and listening to his instructions attentively, then cutting into the hairs, under the skin, and attempting to pull it backwards. It was much harder than it looked, and I was gasping with frustration. When I looked back at him, I saw his lips twitch with a mocking smile.  
"What?"  
He shook his head.  
"Get the knife deeper it, it'll be easier to pull."  
I tried again, cringing completely while pulling, and his lips stretched, almost reaching his ears. He bared his teeth in the widest grin I've ever seen, chuckling silently at me. I couldn't help but smile back, it looked beautiful on him, even though he was mocking me. It was the first time I saw him smile.  
I hit his shoulder, and he laughed.   
"Don't mock me, it's my first time."  
"You did good. Help me clean this."  
His eyes were warmer, and it felt really good. I stole glances at him while we picked up the pieces of fur and washed the blood off our hands. I bent over the small fence to spill the dirty water on the grass, and as I turned around, I caught him staring at my behind while wiping his hands. He flinched and immediately turned around. A small smile escaped from my lips as I approached him, giving him the bowl.  
"My hands still reek of blood." I said, cringing.

"And now they're going to reek of smoke as we prepare the meat, little lady."

"I'm not a little lady! I'm in the Suffragete movement!"

He frowned.

"What's that?"

I lifted my eyebrows. Well, he does live on a mountain.  
"It's a women rights movement. We want to be able to vote, and not be lesser then men anymore, in a gist."

He snorted.  
"Voting? Really? For scammy politicians?"

"It's not just about that. It's a metaphor, I don't want to live subjugated to some man! If we were married, you'd consider me less than you, you wouldn't listen to my opinions or deem them worthy. You would not allow me to make decisions!"

"You don't know me! I am not like that. I don't listen to _anybody's_ opinions."

I smiled.  
"Yeah, okay, I can understand that. But do you understand me?"

"Not really. I can't reason with men. Or women, for that matter. On the other hand, you were offended that I didn't hold you on a pedestal this entire time."

I gasped.

"No I didn't! I was just... I was scared. Of the forest. And I can't go back... I..."

He looked at me, blinking.  
"I killed a man."

He lifted an eyebrow.

"He tried to rape me. Locke. The mayor."

He huffed.

"Do you think I'm a monster?"

He thought for a while.

"No. You were defending yourself."  
I nodded.

"Thank you. Well, that's why I'm running. Nobody believed me, because I'm a model. I don't want to be in the prison. There, that's my story."

I sighed, gauging his reaction. He was silent, but clearly approving.   
"How did you do it?"  
I looked at the knife in my hands.  
"I cut his neck."

"And here I am, giving you knives this entire time."  
He took it from my hands carefully, his lips a thin line of trying not to smile. I yanked the knife back and waved it in front of him.  
"Exactly, little mister."   
He smiled.  
"You're a model?"

"And an actress."  
"Model for what?"

"Painters, sculptors. Nude acts."

His eye twitched and involuntarily slid down my body for a split second. I thought I saw his cheeks getting a bit coloured. I smirked.  
"What is it? Never seen a naked woman before, _Thomas_?"  
I intentionally pronounced the name with a hint of teasing in my voice.  
"Don't be ridiculous. So did you get paid for that?"

"Yes, I had to feed myself somehow. But that's not why I did it. I did it for the Art. The extent of men I brought to their creative Mecca... It's important. People are weird about their talents. I helped where help was needed. But hey, enough about me! What's your story, morning glory?"  
"Hmm. No, I don't talk about myself."  
"Oh come on! I told you everything. You even saw me naked for the love of God!"  
I blurted out, immediately regretting it. He smiled.  
"You want to see me naked?"  
It was my time to blush. A twitch of my body said "I do", but I just huffed and shook my head.  
"You're a child, Thomas, only children act like that."  
I was ready to sashay past him, but he grabbed my wrist and inched a very serious expression to my own startled one.  
"I. Am. Not. A. Child."   
I couldn't understand what caused such a strong reaction, but I froze on spot, feeling his breath dance across my skin. Suddenly, his eyes relaxed, getting a bit watery, and I felt my stomach clench. This is the closest we've been to each other, all I had to do lift my chin a bit and his lips would be upon mine. I felt them twitch.   
"Okay, I'm sorry."   
I said, pulling my wrist away and rubbing it, stepping away from him. He licked his lips, gulping, muttering _sorry_. Now I wondered what would have happened if I did kiss him. He seemed to be impatient around me, I bet he would have just pulled me against him and bite my lips.   
Oh. That thought did not help, I had to look away from him.   
"Umm, Can I get a cloth, please? For my foot, I washed the last one."  
He blinked, nodding, walking to a farther end of the room and coming back with clean linen.  
"Sit down, please."

"It's okay, I can do it myself."  
"No, you can't. Sit down."  
I huffed, rolling my eyes, but sitting down on the bed nonetheless. He sat on the floor and took my foot in his lap. And then I realised my skin was almost on fire. My fingers grasped the sheets on my sides as I grit my teeth, observing his long fingers wrap around my ankle as he dabbed a piece of cloth in moonshine to clean the wound a bit. The burning of the alcohol had a weird effect: it reminded me of the sizzling in my body, and, instead of shrieking, or gasping, I whimpered. His eyes shot up at my face as I inhaled sharply, blood coursing through my cheeks.   
He squinted, before returning his look over my leg, stopping at the conjunction of my skirt and skin a bit above my knees. I clenched my thighs involuntarily, refraining from rubbing them together.   
He licked his lips, gritting his teeth, a movement which drove me nuts as it reflected perfectly on his sharp jaw. I wanted to trace it with my tongue, and dip down to his Adam's apple. I wonder what his groan would sound like.   
His nimble fingers were now wrapping the linen around my foot tightly, and as he accidentally tickled me, my foot flinched, but he grabbed my calf to hold it firmly – so the bandage wouldn't slide off. It felt as if he squeezed the muscle a bit too strongly while he stared at my leg, before sliding his fingers back down unusually slowly, eliciting a sharp breath from me,which did not go unnoticed – he darted a look up at me.   
I imagined him spreading my thighs apart and planting tentative kisses on the insides, a thought which made me bite my lips as I drank in the features of his face.   
I had half a mind to spread my legs and see what would he do.   
He finished wrapping, checking the tightness.   
"Is it okay?"  
I cleared my throat.   
"Yes, yes."   
"Well then, let's prepare the food."  
I smiled, nodding. Good. I definitely needed a distraction. But as he prepared the fire and cut meat in delicious pieces, the smoke started billowing, especially when he extinguished it, because we needed the coal. It was hot, I was almost dizzy with a strong smell, wiping beads of sweat from my forehead.   
"You get used to it." He said, looking at me.  
"No, I'm okay..."  
"Try it. You can do it with a stick. Put the meat on and keep it above, it'll taste differently."  
I listened, feeling my fingers hot from the fire.   
"A bit closer, come on."   
"It's hot!"  
I shrieked, and he chuckled.  
"Like this." He mumbled, reaching behind me in the tiny space and placing his hand on mine, which made his body plastered to my back. I almost gasped, goosebumps running down my spine. I wanted to lay my head on his shoulder and press into him, closing my eyes to try to chase away the thought, completely ignoring the burning on my fingers.   
I gulped, blinking violently.  
"I get it."  
I said, to make him move away, because I couldn't take it anymore.  
"Do you really?" He purred into my ear, and my knees quivered, threatening to give out.  
I turned my head to face him, his pupils wide as his eyes. We were too close again, his chest completely covering my back. I wondered what I would feel if I was to move my bottom against his front.  
"Your fingers will hurt if you don't move your hand."  
He said, but I didn't move, so he reached his other hand to grasp mine in both of his, but as we were too close, his wrist brushed against my nipple, and I gasped. His nostrils flared.   
He moved my hand away, stepping aside.   
"I need to wash my fingers." I mumbled, excusing myself and exiting the steaming room to wash my hands and face with cold spring water, leaning on the fence and panting heavily. The entire cottage reeked of sex, bizarrely raw with the fire and hunger I sensed he felt. As for me, I cannot remember the last time I was this turned on. It's like every single movement was aching, my skin was itching with how badly I craved his touch.   
And then I saw it. The guitar, above my head, on a hook on a ceiling. I climbed on the fence and took it off, getting back inside.  
"Is this yours?"  
He looked at me, narrowing his eyes.  
"Yes."

"Do you play?"  
"Obviously I do."  
I smiled.  
"Will you play something? I want to hear you."  
"No."  
I rolled my eyes.   
"You will, eventually. I'm good at persuading people. So you might as well save yourself the trouble and just do it now."  
He sighed.  
"After the lunch, then."  
I chuckled, wiping the dust off the square wooden musical box and picking a string.  
"Careful, Audrey!"  
He yelled at me.   
"Okay, sorry!" I said, placing the guitar down, observing him placing the prepared meat on a plate.   
I smiled, curious about his music. _After the lunch, then._


	4. Chapter 4

I watched his jaw move up and down for an unnaturally long time. The way he ripped off pieces of food with his teeth and chewed, staring out the window. I nibbled on my tidbits, containing a smile and crossing my legs underneath the table. He licked his lips, drinking some water. I watched his throat moving while he swallowed. Every curve of his face seemed to be erotic right now. I was afraid to look at his chest or his fingers, afraid I'll moan out loud.   
I loved the lean, lithe built of his body.   
But it was the light behind his eyes that got my attention. I wondered what secrets lie there. I wondered _how to draw them out._ Well, he'll play to me. Then I'll see it, then I will know how.   
He looked at me, catching me squinting and thinking.   
"What is it?"

"I'm wondering what you'll play."  
He smiled.   
"And what will you do for me?"

I shrugged.  
"I'll talk highly of you in my memoirs."

He laughed. Oh the chime of his laughter was beautiful, echoing the room and making me smile.   
"Are you done?"

I asked, impatient.  
"No, I'm hungry. I've been hunting while you were prancing around nak-"  
He stopped in the middle of the sentence, suddenly embarrassed. I smirked.   
"Actually, I'm going for a swim. And then I'll play."  
I whined.  
"Oh come on!"  
He just threw me a mean look and got up, exiting. I huffed, annoyed.   
While I was cleaning the table, to do at least something to sidetrack my mind, I caught a glance of him through the window. He stripped down and was about to enter the water. I got closer, squinting to get a better look, chuckling to myself. _Nice ass_.   
And again, my dirty imagination told me to go out and join him. I shook my head and settled for observing the parts of the guitar, touching the olden wood, tracing carvings, plucking a string to hear the sound. I was unbraiding my hair when he returned, almost jumping up, my eyes wide.   
He sighed.  
"Oh, okay."  
He took the guitar and pulled a chair closer to the bed, where I sat down. He adjusted the strings, checking the sound, humming to himself. Clearing his throat, he started plucking the strings, drawing out a languid, sad sound, which hung low on a steady rhythm.   
I slouched, holding my breath. Then he started singing. His voice was low, and strong. He sang about love, about a devil woman abandoning him.   
"...soul of a woman was created below!" He whined, his voice rising and reverberating the room, making my hair stand up on its ends with how he delivered the lamentation.   
He finished the first song and gulped, looking at me.  
"You... sound like the Negros."  
"It's the blues."  
"Yes, I hear more of it. It is... so strong, Thomas. I love it. Will... will you play more?"  
He nodded, closing his eyes and continuing, with a faster number, tapping his foot on the floor and playing with a copper slide, humming loudly. It was about a death letter received, saying the woman he loves is dead. I soon ran out of thoughts, pulling up my knees, closing my eyes and just listening. It was divine. I imagined him playing in a juke joint, I thought of the dancing, the longevity, the emotional weariness. Oh it's called _blues_ for a reason.   
And when I opened my eyes, seeing pain contorting his beautiful features – I realised it: he is holding back from emotions. That's why he is alone on a mountain, his guitar is dusty, his tongue speaks nothing of himself.  
I squinted, seeing him finally, when he lost himself to his music, breathing every chord as if it is played by the blood coursing through his veins, by the very soul of him.   
And it was _so good_ , especially when a slower, steaming number came on, with a heavy rhythm, full of breaths and moans. I was smiling again. I had to have him.   
He was closing and opening his eyes, lost in the lyrics of a woman called Louise McGhee:  
 _I say, throw on up your God dog hands  
You know I been your dog, ever since that I know your name. _  
I licked my lips, getting up from the bed quietly and unbuttoning my shirt. His eyes were still closed, opening when I was parting the sides and taking it off. He stopped mid-lyric.  
"Continue." I said, and he did, looking attentively at me. I took off my undershirt, smiling at him when his eyes locked on my breasts, while he was whining how he is going to _lose his mind_.   
I unzipped my skirt and pulled it down, along with my underwear, and then I lifted my arms and started to sway with the melody. He stopped again when I took a step closer.  
"Continue!" I yelled, swaying on with the melody, walking to him and standing a few inches from his face, feeling his heated gaze lash across my naked skin, making me hot.   
He leaned forward, connecting his lips with my belly button – an electrical surge shuddered through me, I gasped. He put the guitar on the floor and slowly wrapped his fingers around my hips, pulling me closer.   
"Thomas..." I whispered, as he pulled me down to straddle him, holding my head and kissing me. The heat of the entire day connected, it washed over me in continuous waves as his tongue traced my lips, and his hands slid down my arms to my waist, squeezing it painfully, before sliding up to cup my breasts, doing nothing for a while, just weighing them. He looked at them, frowning, lowering his head to kiss my nipples, sucking strongly. I moaned, feeling I was already drenched.  
I pushed a hand between us to unzip his pants and pull the hardness out, gasping at the size of it between my fingers. He grunted as I caressed him, separating to look at it, before looking into my eyes, hazy and drunk. I squeezed harder, quickening my pace. His face contorted, he frowned and flinched, quivering slightly and – spilling himself over my hand.   
I gasped, surprised, while he threw his head back and panted heavily. I placed my palm on his cheek. He looked at me. I smiled.   
"Too excited." I whispered, unsatisfied, though happy with the look of release on his face. I leaned to kiss him and then separated, getting up, but he caught me by my hips, looking darkly up at me, before lunging forward and taking a nipple between his lips, sucking, while his nails grazed my skin, starting to knead and dig themselves in the soft flesh. I whimpered at the surprise, streaks of excitement shooting down my core.   
He moaned, nuzzling his entire face into my breasts, biting every expanse of flesh presented. He suddenly got up and held me against him tightly. I relaxed in his embrace, allowing him to hold me up, and he turned me around and lifted me onto the table, pushing me on my back, ravaging my throat with his lips. He bit me, panting against my skin, continuing his descent while darting a tongue out to lap at my flesh, breathing rapidly, hungry, grunting when he reached a breast again, biting it a bit too hard – I whimpered, pain quickly softening into a streak of wetness oozing out of me.   
He feasted on my skin, his hands as hungry as his mouth, squeezing and pulling and digging into the softest parts of me. My mind was in a nebula of desire, I felt as if he was going to eat me alive, so strong was his craving. I intertwined my fingers with his curls and caressed the soft hair, whispering his name, moaning it as he moved his ravenous tongue over my stomach, reaching my ache, my damp, needy core.   
He buried his face at the apex of my thighs, inhaling so deeply I quivered, then separating to look at me.   
"It's been so long..." He muttered, more to himself, as he returned his mouth to my labia, his beard prickling my sensitive skin divinely. He growled at the taste of my wetness, sound reverberating through me, making me moan my desire loudly.   
He licked the entire area, nibbling on my outer lips, before plastering the length of his tongue on my swollen bud and stopping for a moment. But as I looked down to see his drunken eyes staring back at me, making me even more hot, biting my lip, he blinked slowly, drowsily, and began lapping my skin, just rapidly, impatiently kneading his lips and raspy tongue on all of the drenched flesh available, like a hungry dog. He knew what to do, I could feel it, but the absence of a woman in his life for who knows how long made him stoked, eager, and the prurience of his onslaught was so suffused with hunger I honestly thought he'll bite off a part of my skin.   
The squishing, wet sounds were delicious to my mind, I grazed my nails on the table and my eyes rolled back in their sockets.   
He grunted, breathing rapidly and flickering his tongue over my nub, before pressing down on it and making me writhe underneath him, so much he had to hold my hips down and make the torture even sweeter.  
"Oh, Thomas..."  
I whimpered loudly when his tongue found my entrance, prodding the wetness and causing me to buck my hips up. I did not expect him to graze his teeth on my bud, and it triggered my orgasm – my body clenched wildly, I yelled out, and he slid two fingers inside me to feel the squeeze around them, pulling himself up to drown my scream with his lips.  
"I thought about how you would taste like... you're delicious, Audrey." He purred, continuing my wild release, burying his fingers deep inside me.   
I looked at his face, his lips stained with my wetness, his ginger beard glistening in the setting sun, his eyes exhilarated, imbibed with joy I have not yet seen in them. I took his face in my hands.  
"You're so beautiful..." I whispered to him, and he smiled. I could feel myself tightening still – when he pulled his fingers out and slid his erection inside me in a slick motion. I gasped. Last couple of my twitches made the girth of it even wider. I felt so full of him, completely strained under his body which he laid on mine, under his lips which enclosed my breath.   
I mewled into his mouth when he pulled out, before sliding inside slowly, veins on his neck popping out with the pleasure he had not known for so long. I had to smile, and when he opened his eyes to look at me, he frowned lightly.  
"I wondered how long it would take you, beautiful boy."  
"How long it would take me...? I am not a boy."  
"...to spread my legs and slide inside me, _boy_."  
He shook his head in aroused disbelief.  
"I had not yet known a woman like you" He said, starting to circle his slim hips between my thighs. I bit my lip, quietly moaning, to which he smiled. "You're very... not scared of this."  
"What is there to be scared of? I love the way you feel ins- Oh, god!!" I yelled out when he suddenly thrust deep inside me, pulling my lips with his fingers.  
"Dirty, dirty mouth" He whispered, kneading my lower lip. I smiled, darting a tongue out to wet his finger lewdly. He clenched his jaw, I could feel lust running through his veins as his nostrils flared and he started thrusting hard, sliding me against his body with every movement.   
"Good boy, Thomas!" I yelled, laughing and clenching my thighs around his hips.   
"I am a man!" He yelled back and shoved into me violently, turning my chuckle into a whimper, quickening his pace. My mind was reeling with how wide the hardness was, rippling through me in such a way all of my sensitive spots were being pleasured mercilessly. He held my hips now, his face contorting as he lifted up a bit and continued driving himself into my wet need. His shirt was unbuttoned, and I observed the taut skin straining with desire we shared, and soon, my body writhed again, as the release took hold – had me gushing, my walls spasming around him. He groaned loudly at the sensation, burying himself deep inside and orgasming violently. I pulled his head down to kiss him. He mouthed my name, panting the subsided gratification to my lips.   
Thomas pushed his hands under my back and lifted me up, carrying me to the bed, and joining me there after he undressed himself.   
I threw my arm and a leg over him, laying my head on his chest, feeling the thundering heartbeats slowing down.  
"So now I get to sleep on your bed? I should've done this the first day I was here." I teased. He chuckled, removing the hair from my face.   
"Yes, that's the price, at least for you Suffragetes."  
"Hey!" I said, lifting myself up to straddle him and wrapping my hands around his throat. He pursed his lips. "I'm dangerous, don't mess with me."  
He laughed, caressing my wrists, before sliding his hands up to knead my breasts, moaning to himself. I put my fingers over his and pressed them.  
"How long... has it been?"  
He stared at me.  
"Five years."  
I lifted my eyebrows with a pout.   
"Oh, poor baby. Let me take care of you..." I said and bent down to kiss him passionately. He cupped my behind with his wide palms.  
"I like you, Audrey." He suddenly said, making me look at him. I smiled, saying nothing, lying back down on him.   
I listened to his breathing for awhile, and when I raised my head to tell him I think I liked him too, I saw his eyes were closed.   
He had the expression of a happy man while he slept.   



End file.
